


Mind Over Matter

by illmatchtheminrenown



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, bad ideas from twizzler hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illmatchtheminrenown/pseuds/illmatchtheminrenown
Summary: Josh's comeback season is endangered by recurring migraines from his injury. This might just be a job for a real hero.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mosca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosca/gifts).



> This only exists because of twizzler chats and Mosca, because she prompted me to write "Josh Farris/any Marvel character." Also, thank you for letting me imply that this takes place in that same universe as "Spectator Sport" (albeit a much less porny corner of that world!)
> 
> If you're more a Marvel fan than figure skating, allow me to introduce you to [Josh](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/dc/e2/0e/dce20e0ee2471e55388ce5df555687a0.jpg) [Farris](https://68.media.tumblr.com/1d789c4063f86434a4a2f4e45c0414b1/tumblr_njsfhiNseI1rm6ftfo1_r1_500.gif)

Since he was a little boy, Josh’s favorite time to be on the ice was early in the morning. When no one else was around, he didn’t have to worry about people in the way or coaches yelling directions at their skaters - just him and the music and the ice, and that was the way he liked it. And after his injury, the quiet ice became even more important once he realized he could no more stay off the ice than he could stop breathing. These quiet sessions limited the amount of input his brain and body had to deal with: he could control the noise, avoid the pressure of being around others, and, since making friends with the rink staff, could even control the amount of light, which was especially helpful on days like today, where he already had the beginnings of a headache at 6 in the morning.

But the one thing being alone couldn’t cure was the fear of falling. Josh berated himself every time he felt the creeping panic in his stomach, but it did no good. Some days - most days - he wished he could go back to when he was nine, tiny and awkward and terrified to touch anything lest it poison him, but fearless when it came to hurling his body through the air off of thin, fast-moving blades. Now, every time he prepared to take off, a tiny voice in his head whispered reminders that all it took last time was one wonky landing, and that another one could take him out permanently. 

It was on one of those fearful takeoffs that the worst did happen. Josh could tell as he rotated that this wasn’t going to be a good landing, and braced himself. He stumbled and began to fall, hard, as he came down, and as panic shot a chill through him, a million thoughts whirled through his head. _I shouldn’t have come back. Why did I try a quad already? Jason’s going to cry if I get hurt again, and I can’t watch that._

__

__

_Shouldn’t I have hit the ice by now?_ Josh came back to his senses all at once, suddenly aware of the fact that his upper body was _hovering_ inches above the ice in a way that should not have been physically possible. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around.

That’s when he saw a small, dark figure at the boards. When he looked at them, however, the person turned and bolted.

“Hey! Hey, wait!” Josh skated over as fast as he could, already knowing it was futile if they really wanted to get away. “Please, wait!” 

To his surprise, the person did, slowly turning around and walking back to the boards as Josh skidded to a stop.

“I thought I was here alone,” he said, attempting to peer beneath the dark red hoodie to discern who - or what - was beneath it. The part of him that had spent too many hours watching horror movies and news reports from the Incidents of recent years with Jason and Max screamed at him to get out while he still could, but another part of him preferred to live on the edge somehow.

“I was about to say the same thing.” A voice, low but feminine and with an accent he placed as vaguely Eastern European, emitted from the hood. 

“You… ah… come here often? I haven’t seen you before. I don’t think,” he added.

“Is that a line?” The voice took on a hint of amusement as Josh scrambled to answer.

“No! No, sorry. Er… sorry, I’m just not used to seeing anyone else this time of day.”

“You like being alone.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Josh nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, it’s… nice. Not as many-”

“-Worries,” she finished. She lowered her hood. “I can relate.”

It took every bit of Josh’s extensive media training to not gape open-mouthed at the young woman who he now recognized without a doubt. Long, reddish-brown hair, pale skin, and clear blue eyes that now met his with a wary, questioning gaze.

“You’re… her….” he stammered.

“You’re perceptive. Are you… what does Stark call it, a ‘fanboy’?” Wanda remarked dryly. Josh laughed awkwardly.

“Sorry, I just… Let me try again. Hi, I’m Josh.” He offered a hand across the boards, but she shied away as if on instinct. 

“I know,” she replied, too quickly. After a second, Josh broke into a grin.

“Now who’s the fan?” he teased. A thought struck him. “Wait, that was you, wasn’t it?” When she didn’t respond, he brightened even more. “Holy shit. I go from thinking I’m about to have a career-ending fall - _again_ \- to getting saved by real-life superpowers. Can you show me? Please?”

With a roll of her eyes, Wanda gestured for him to skate back out. 

“Quad axel… that’s the impossible dream, right?” she asked. Josh was too caught up in the moment to ask how she knew that and simply nodded. 

“Do your triple. Leave the rest to me,” she ordered.

As Josh did a few crossovers to build up enough speed, he called out to her. “You ever think about being a coach? Giving orders like a natural.”  
“Shut up and let me concentrate.” This time, he obeyed, setting up the jump and leaping off his edge. He caught a glimpse of red tendrils as he took off, but was quickly caught up in a strange sensation. It was as if he was defying the forces of gravity, as if he had all the time in the world to rotate before landing solidly. 

“Oh my God! Oh my _God_ that was… oh my God.” Josh was at a loss for words, shouting at the ceiling. “Did you-” He turned around to shout to Wanda, only to find that she had disappeared. He skidded up to the boards, looking around in vain, but there was nothing there to even suggest that she had been there, as if by magic.

*******  
Josh thought he’d never see her again. He didn’t talk about it with anyone, but it became a habit of his to search the internet for any rumors about where the mysterious Scarlet Witch and her fellow Rogue Avengers had disappeared to.

At the Trophee de France, though, his sneaking skills weren’t enough to avoid the wandering gaze of one French ice dancer who plopped down next to him backstage. He'd set his phone down next to him as he strummed at his guitar, but a Google alert pinged at the most inconvenient time.

“Ah, the Avengers. Hard to pin down, but hard to look away. But they do live up to the… er… hype” he commented wryly. 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Josh answered, continuing to fiddle with chord progressions. To his surprise, Guillaume flushed slightly - something he didn’t even think the unflappable, urbane Frenchman could do.

“We… crossed paths once. But that is not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Josh asked.

“Just… be careful, hm? Getting mixed up with them is the last thing you should be focusing on. Worry about your skating… and your costume, for that matter,” Guillaume answered with an air of authority. Josh found himself slightly irritated at the other man’s superior tone - he acted like an all-knowing big brother when they were nearly the same age! 

“What’s wrong with my costume, anyhow?” Josh asked as Guillaume stood up. A small grin flashed across his face.

“Doesn’t fit right,” he said abruptly. A thought flashed through Josh’s mind, and he looked Guillaume straight in the eyes as he replied.

“For my… lines, right?” he asked, deliberately pausing mid-sentence. Guillaume seemed slightly taken aback, but rose to the challenge.

“Of course. For your lines,” Guillaume answered calmly. No one else was around, so he leaned down and fluidly kissed Josh on both cheeks. “For good luck, if you need it,” he added. “And after you win your medal, if you need any advice about… lines-”

“I know where to find you,” Josh answered. It took a minute after Guillaume left for Josh to return to his phone, distracted as he continued his fruitless search. 

**********  
The morning of the free program dawned, and from the moment he woke up, Josh could tell it was going to be one of those days. His head already ached, a dull throb behind his eyes that he knew would only worsen in the cold, white brightness of the music-and-crowd-filled arena. After letting loose a few curses, he dragged himself up, rummaged around for his pills, and swallowed them with a mouthful of water before unpacking his breakfast - one thing he knew wouldn’t kill him, at least.

This was one of the bad migraines, though, and try as he might, Josh struggled through his warmup. Part of him was grateful to be skating second-to-last in his group, but part of him wished it would just be over already. He retreated to the quietest corner of the backstage area he could find, closed his eyes, and tried to meditate and calm his pounding head. He sensed someone approach him and assumed it was his teammate.

“Adam, I’m okay, I promise. I just needed some quiet for a minute,” he murmured. 

“Who is Adam?” Josh’s eyes jolted open to see Wanda standing in front of him, head tilted. “Oh. The sparkly one.”

“Wanda, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here, if anyone finds you-”

“Don’t worry. Sam and Clint are close enough to help if anything happens. Besides… I like the ice. It feels like home,” she admitted, sliding down to sit next to him.

“That’s how you knew about the jumps. You used to skate?” he asked. She nodded, a sudden smile lighting up her face.

“Sokovia was close enough to Russia that everyone skated. Well, most everyone. Pietro tried, but he was awful,” she chuckled fondly. “I wanted to be an ice dancer. So precise. So lovely. But then… well, you know,” she trailed off, illustrating with a spark of red dancing between her fingers in that dextrous gesture he’d come to associate with her. He nodded, but winced as the gesture aggravated his migraine. Her smile disappeared behind a mask of concern. “Joshua? What is it?”

“It’s just… I had an injury a while back, a head injury, and I still get really bad migraines sometimes. Terrible timing today, huh?” he tried to joke, not liking when her smile disappeared because of him. She leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of his face as if she was about to kiss him. But instead, she moved her hands up, just slightly, to his temples. Josh opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, but before he could, he felt a jolt of energy he’d only felt once before. This time, instead of lifting him into the air, it crackled through his mind. For a split second, he caught a glimpse of an image… Wanda in the embrace of a dark-haired man who he couldn’t quite make out… before the image was gone and with it, the pain.

Wanda drew back, satisfied. 

“Better?” she asked. He turned his head experimentally, blinked a few times.

“Yeah. Much. Thanks,” Josh said, marveling at the sudden freedom. It was always surprising how miraculous feeling normal could feel after a bout like this. He sat with her, shoulder-to-shoulder, for a moment, before remembering the question.

“Wanda? When you were… in my mind, I saw… something, for a second,” he began. Wanda sat up suddenly.

“You saw? What did you see?” she demanded.

“I’m not sure… there was a guy with you… dark hair…” he trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to embarrass either of them. 

“Imagination is the forefront of the mind,” she explained brusquely, “so when there’s a transfer of energy between minds, sometimes a bit of imagination goes… the opposite way.” 

“So the man in the image… he’s…?” Josh didn’t want to ask any further, but couldn’t help wanting to know. 

“You are such an idiot,” she answered. A light went on in Josh’s mind - but the good kind this time. He glanced up at the clock to see that he needed to get out to rinkside right about then, but paused for a moment. 

“In that case…” Josh had never been the smoothest, and he fumbled awkwardly as he tried to be the dashing hero (which was all wrong, she was the hero), but he did his best anyway. He leaned over to press his lips to hers, and had time to feel her respond in kind before he pressed their foreheads together, whispered another fervent thanks, and clambered to his feet.

*******  
As he moved through his final choreography, Josh could feel the energy pouring off the crowd. On instinct, he flicked his hands in a new way, a familiar way, grinning and hoping that at least one person in the audience would see and approve.


End file.
